


Days of Youth

by orphan_account



Category: Paul Williams - Fandom
Genre: Other, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul has quite a shocking encounter with himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days of Youth

Long golden hair. Rosy cheeks. Those familiar bedroom eyes. Paul couldn't believe the sight before him.

Because the sight before him was in fact _him _.__

Paul tried to assure himself this was only a dream. He'll wake up, maybe tell someone about it in the morning. Nothing about this was real.

A sudden voice stopped his train of thought. A voice he knew so well, just a slight bit higher and youthful. He could hear a bit of prudence in those words, too. While he fondly looked back to his earlier days, he hated parts of the man he used to be. Looking at the floor, he tried to drown those all those unpleasant memories away.

He lifted his head.

That gaudy attire. The tacky waistcoat and maroon-tinted glasses and anything else he wore managed disappear with the blink of an eye. Golden hair now on bare shoulders. 

He himself also felt the breeze on his skin.

While he was as small as he remembered, his member was at its firmest, already dripping. Paul seemed bashful, looking down at what he had now, a collection of wrinkles that couldn't stand up even with all those blue pills he downed like candy. Trying to ignore that, he looked up at the handsome young man with a mix of envy, reminiscence, and arousal.

The young man was suddenly face to face with him. He could feel everything now, the scent of tobacco as his lips touched his, the coolness of his old wedding ring on his back, the brushing of his long hair against his now shorter cut. He began running his fingers through those lovely locks, lips running down to mouth that one soft spot near his throat he knew drove him mad. His stiff cock against his limp one, feeling the sticky wetness now running out of him. Youthful moans complimenting aged ones.

Everything around them. Everything around him. It soon became a blur as he touched himself. Whether it was a hallucination or reality, he couldn't deny the pleasure he was feeling. Pleasure he haven't felt in so many years. 

Pleasure he'd hope he'll never wake from.


End file.
